crossed wires
by Domenic
Summary: "I think you missed your calling," Arcee remarked one night on hall patrol, and she came before Starscream's cell again. [Pre-series AU.]


**Title: crossed wires**

**Fandom: Transformers Prime**

**Summary: "I think you missed your calling," Arcee remarked one night on hall patrol, and she came before Starscream's cell again. [Pre-series AU.] **

**A/N: Finally something for a meme way back, when editoress responded with Starcee, "I think you missed your calling."**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Transformers Prime.**

Arcee had been born into the guard caste—the low level type—in her sector. She hated when it was her turn at cell duty. The facilities given to her force were meager in comparison to the number of prisoners they received. She didn't care to see so many mechs and gyns stuffed into cramped quarters, or her comrades' relief when some of them killed each other and thus granted more space.

Their latest charge was a loud seeker, and lucky him, he received the last empty cell, one of the more defaced ones, marked with random carvings on the wall, of timekeeping or other such nonsence. All to himself.

Arcee refrained from the other guards' bets on when 'Screamer would get a cellmate. Calling him that was not solely a nickname capitalizing on how loudly the seeker screamed abuse at his jailers. His criminal record actually listed him as "Starscream." Arcee's comrades had a field day with that (which probably fed into the seeker screaming his anger at them). Lately, her unit's days had been slow, in only that their routine had experienced no major changes. The seeker served for some diversion.

Arcee held disdain for those guards who took diversion to the point of making Screamer literally shut up when his voice started to grate on their sensors. She held her silence though; they were her unit, and more importantly, no one cared. There was no policy against this sort of abuse. It was more common practice really.

Still, Arcee was the first to make sure Starscream was still alive, and to tend to his injuries.

"Maybe you want to start talking about something else besides their resemblance to a trash compactor's heap?"

His only response was to glare at her out of one optic (the other was dented and clawed over and would need more time to heal).

Thus Arcee was surprised the next day to hear Starscream, instead of shouting insults at the guards, lecturing them on a bunch of scientific scrap that went over her head. Half the time she wondered if he was making it up. Arcee could think of no way to confirm the knowledge of his lectures. Surely they could not all be accurate; Arcee remembered Starscream's file, which identified him as belonging to a caste even lower than hers. It was a caste type shared by many in the cells, a caste type that generated many of their lot, their caste poverty leaving them little else to do but a life of thievery and other criminal activity. That was what Starscream was here for, he was a thief, caught trying to break into the science center...

That made Arcee reconsider. Perhaps his thievery—yes, after double-checking his record, there was some hi-tech espionage listed as well. Perhaps the seeker wasn't so full of bullscrap after all.

###

"I think you missed your calling," Arcee remarked one night on hall patrol, and she came before Starscream's cell again. She was a little baffled by how fond her voice sounded.

The two-wheeler found the seeker again staring blankly at the defaced walls, lingering on some random arrangement of tic marks before flicking his eyes to her.

"What?" She'd never heard Starscream's voice sound so confused before.

"C'mon, you've been lecturing us day and night about space bridge theory, Mr. Big Shot scientist." Again the strange fondness in her voice, the fondness in her smirk. Guess the loudmoth had grown on her, or something.

Arcee blinked; she'd never seen the seeker look so enraged. Both optics glared at her (both were healed now). Their glow intensified with his rage.

He did not angrily scream, as she expected. His voice was low, guttural. "Do you think you're so high in rank that you can get away with mocking my caste?" His claws came out, even if the way his arms were chained made them useless. "You're _barely_ better than I, you're not _that _far off, you could've been born _**this**_!" Now he screamed at her, banging himself against the cell glass.

Arcee stood her ground, only moving to snap her head around when one of her larger comrades stepped in, looming from one of the connecting halls.

"Problem?"

Though Starscream still glared at her, angry and sullen, Arcee called back to her comrade, "I've got it under control."

When they were left alone again, Arcee was surprised to find Starscream content to let her have the last word—he made no response.

In fact, he turned his back, and ignored her, instead silently fuming at the scratched up walls.

He was quiet the next day, and the next. Arcee thought his silence would be a relief, but now she only regretted picking at what was clearly a sore spot. And a pity sprung up—not necessarily for the unfortunate rank he was born into, that would be too insulting, surely; but for the fact that he still apparently clung to impossible dreams. (Arcee had shed hers long ago as a sparkling—but then, she could not recall her dreams ever being so specific, beyond a desire for something _else_.)

###

Arcee didn't like the look of them.

"Hmmm, like what you see, little gyn blue?" One of the two newcomers asked, his violet wings flexing slightly beneath their cuffs. He nudged his dark blue twin, slightly shorter than he. "But I think you'd like my other half more—practically matching colors and disposition, I can tell."

His twin flashed a withering glare at him, but remained silent. And then with a slight eye roll, he concentrated his gaze on some random point on the wall, resuming his bored demeanor.

The violet twin gave Arcee a wink.

The two-wheeler's glare narrowed. "Seen it before." Her grip on the key to their cuffs tightened.

"They're 'Screamer's trinemates, 'Cee," muttered one of her comrades, his voice distant as he continued to complete processing for the new prisoners on his data pad. "Meet Skywarp and Thundercracker," his said, his voice terse and decidely unwelcoming.

"Hello!" Skywarp, the purple one, said with a beaming face, so similar to Starscream's, though he'd never worn such a happy expression before.

"Shut up," said her fellow guard without looking up from his data pad.

"Oh, not even TC can get me to do that," Skywarp scoffed.

"Not for lack of trying," Thundercracker said, though his eyes remained on the wall.

"What a shocker," Arcee deadpanned. Then she snapped, "You're not reuniting the trine, are you?" She tried to sneak a glance at her comrade's data pad.

"How _is_ our littlest Starscream?" Skywarp asked, leaning forward to look down at the data pad.

Arcee flicked out her blaster to make him back off, but Thundercracker had calmly pulled Skywarp back before she had finished her move.

But she kept her blaster out. "Stay back," she warned them, trying not to feel foolish over the fact that the pair had restrained themselves before she could do it for them. Skywarp and Thundercracker were significantly larger than Starscream, and Arcee doubted they would be as much of a target to her comrades as their "littlest" trinemate had been (she guessed that Starscream was also the youngest in their trine, besides being the most diminutive).

"There's only 'Screamer's cell left, have to pack them in together—"

"Just like when we were sparklings," Skywarp murmured in a fond, dreamy voice, while Thundercracker ignored him, and Arcee felt more uncomfortable.

"We can't do that, they'll—"

"What, _plot_?" The other guard asked. Arcee snapped her mouth shut. "Oh Primus, you think they'll plot—"

"Sleepovers are way more fun than late-night plotting," Skywarp insisted.

Arcee ignored him. "We try to keep criminal teams separate, and these three are obviously familiar with each other—by the Pit, I know Scream's records said they worked together—"

"Much rather stay up and reminisce with my trinemates," Skywarp went on in a sing-song voice.

Thundercracker finally seemed to snap, grabbing his trinemate's upper arm so tight, the clawtips that half-poked out of the cuffs managed to break metal and make Energon bleed. "Enough," he ground out.

"—when we can, when there's space—" the other guard ranted on, and Arcee sighed, feeling her temper slipping and being overwhelmed by all the differing chatter. "—what are they going to plot behind walls, honestly?"

Skywarp rambled on: "Catch up with our littlest, make sure he's fine—"

Arcee's eyes widened when Thundercracker's clawtips dug into Skywarp's arm, who didn't even flinch, but instead smiled wider. Before she could make a move to stop the violence, she was shocked when Thundercracker actually pulled a piece of metal out of Skywarp, who merely gave a relieved sigh. She couldn't figure out what organ the seeker had removed—and then it was blinking, flashing green, and she didn't know much about Cybertronian anatomy, but she was certain there were no flashing parts on the inside—

"—and that he got the intel we needed," Skywarp finished, still smiling as Thundercracker pressed down hard on the Energon-soaked, flashing piece, making it turn yellow instead.

The explosion was loud and immediate and Arcee was thrown off her feet—where was her comrade—that explosion had come from Starscream's direction—

A flash of violet, and Arcee stayed off her feet, Skywarp's heeled foot pressing down hard on her throat.

"C'mon, let it go," Skywarp sang, "_let it go_—" His large claws curved encouragingly for the key she still had.

Instinctively the two-wheeler's grip on the key tightened, even as she gagged. (Great time to be contrary.)

"Quit playing around," hissed Thundercracker, who stepped over the unconscious body of her comrade and joined the struggling two. His own heeled foot stomped down, aiming for and crushing Arcee's wrist. She gave a pained gasp, her grip finally breaking, and she saw Skywarp eagerly scoop up the freed key with an appreciative whistle.

Thundercracker was quick to batter Arcee into submission, clearly intent on making sure she couldn't stop them. He only stopped when Skywarp's cuffs clattered to the ground, and he passed the key to them. Arcee coughed, then gave a low groan. _Play weak_, she thought. Another wave of pain passed through her. _Weaker than you already are, anyway._

Sirens blared—but those weren't just for the explosion, weren't those for—

"Ah look, Star managed to release the other prisoners after all," Skywarp said, his voice utterly pleased while all Arcee could think was, _**Scrap**_. She could hear the prisoners more clearly, unmuffled by cell walls, their voices and noises mingling into a chaotic din. Things were happening fast enough that reinforcements would be caught off guard by the freed prisoners—and they'd been packed to capacity in their cells—there would be so many, if they were all out...

_Probably better off playing dead_, Arcee thought, making sure her optics offlined. She didn't particularly feel like dying over a resource-deprived prison she was forced to guard. The impending hoards of criminals would hopefully overlook what seemed like a guard corpse in favor of freedom.

Starscream's voice rang out, crowing. Arcee had to remind herself to keep her eyes shut, and to be still. "Warp, TC, I did it, I managed to decipher from the cell walls the coordinates Altrax left behi—"

"Debrief later," Thundercracker's voice cut through, terse and strict. But he still said, "Explosion on your end didn't harm you?"

"Beyond the obvious ripping out the explosive bit from the inside—hey, maybe we'll have matching scars!" Skywarp said, and Arcee could picture in her mind's eye that fragger showing off the bloodied arm Thundercracker had extracted the weapon from. _Worthless scanners, missing home-sewn bombs on their prisoners..._

Arcee tried not to stiffen when another heeled foot gently prodded her. She thought this foot felt smaller, and her suspicions as to the identity of who was prodding her felt confirmed when she heard Skywarp call, "So what's the verdict, Star, did TC kill little gyn blue? I was kinda busy uncuffing myself—hey TC, do you know if you kicked her all the way to death?"

"Don't know, don't care, let's just go."

"But you killed the other one—"

"Did I?" Arcee felt anger flare up at the careless curiosity in Thundercracker's voice. That was one of her unit he'd slain, and he had the gall to be so callous...

_Ohprimus_, Arcee thought as her eyes darted open when Starscream prodded too hard at her broken wrist. She caught Starscream's gaze, and he stared back at her, surprised.

"Star, verdict!" Skywarp insisted, and Arcee realized that Starsceam's back blocked her from view. Neither Skywarp or Thundercracker could see her open eyes, or Starscream's shock.

Obviously Arcee kept her silence, and Starscream kept his silence, until he said, "She's dead."

The two-wheeler shut her eyes, and tried not to react as Starscream sharply kicked her aside, and she felt herself hit a room corner. She stayed still and heard him leave with his trine, though they soon grew lost in the chaos of other prisoners stampeding to freedom.

In her corner, playing dead, Arcee went unnoticed.

###

Years and years later, with the Autobot insignia branded into her finish, Arcee pretends she doesn't notice Starscream slink off with a wounded Thundercracker between him and Skywarp.

A life for a life, favor for a favor. They're even.

(And the debt is repaid, isn't it?)

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Comments are always appreciated.**


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